


The Glimpse

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: comment_fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley has Castiel right where he wants him, until he scuffs the edge of the magic circle and finds himself five years in the future – where having Castiel right where he wants him is apparently a regular occurrence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Glimpse

It’s just as well he doesn’t like to gloat.

Oh, hell, who is he kidding. He loves to gloat, and he loves it best when it’s over that damned, bewinged, pain-in-the-arse, adopted Winchester.

Castiel is having some trouble getting up. He’s tried a few times, but nobody builds a magic circle like Crowley – it’s one of the first things they taught him after he graduated from being tortured to torturing.

The angel’s trying it again right now, pushing himself awkwardly up from the floor so he can at least get his knees under him. He’s facing away from Crowley and so presents a very nice view.

Not that Crowley’s in the least bit interested, he absolutely isn’t, but he is observant. To be fair to the angel, he presents a very nice view whichever direction he’s facing.

Again, not that Crowley is interested. 

“You really ought to look before you leap, Cas,” he says, pushing a little sympathy into his tone. “Now look where just jumping in has gotten you. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

Castiel actually manages to kneel, but since he’s still facing the wall instead of Crowley, the poor sod probably doesn’t count it as kneeling to him.

Crowley does, though, and it gives him delicious little shivers.

“I’d be willing to negotiate with you,” he tells the sullen angel. “I suppose you do want out of there.”

“Of course I want out,” Castiel grates at him. He sounds hurt, and tired, and Crowley shouldn’t be surprised with that. The angel had just taken out a nest of vampires that had the Winchesters’ location and were planning on a midnight fridge raid. Castiel, being Castiel, decided to intervene.

And all Crowley had to do then was give poor exhausted Castiel a shove and the circle activated, the lock clicked into place and boom – one trapped angel. Of course, he knows if Castiel hadn’t been so distracted with his latest save-Sam-and-Dean-mission he’d have noticed the trap before he fell – was pushed – into it.

But that’s Castiel’s problem, not his.

“So, how badly?” Crowley prompts. He examines his fingernails, making it seem like he really isn’t that interested, but since they’re both here he might as well attempt conversation. 

After a few moments of stubborn silence, Crowley feels himself getting a little impatient. Castiel’s the one trapped in the circle and yet it feels like he’s also the one in control here. 

“Negotiation,” Crowley says, just in case Castiel was a year behind in angel school, “kind of involves two or more parties, where they compromise to reach an agreement beneficial to both parties. In other words, you get something – out of my nice little magic circle – and I get something.”

Castiel glances over his shoulder at him. “Define ‘something’.”

“Oh, well.” Crowley gives a little shrug, like he hasn’t really thought it over. “What do you get the demon that has everything?”

“Crowley.”

He snorts at Castiel. Probably as soon as he gets the angel to agree, he’d flap his way back to those two brothers and the three of them will stumble right onto their next ill conceived adventure. 

He’s an utter moron, but Crowley wishes he had someone who’d be as dedicated to their own destruction on his behalf, and even a fifth as loyal.

“You’re a naughty angel for stealing that dagger from those forest guardians yesterday,” he chastises. He probably sounds a bit envious and impressed at the same time. He’d had his eye on that thing since he found out where it was, but no idea how to get it. 

He and Castiel want it for the same reason – but with different outcomes in mind.

Castiel thinks it’ll bleed out the fever Bobby Singer’s suffering since he got cursed by that half arsed warlock. Crowley knows it will, but unlike the angel he won’t use it without getting a bargain out of the grouchy old bastard – because Bobby has a neat little relic in his possession that Crowley can just work wonders with.

“No,” Castiel says.

“Huh. In that case, make yourself comfortable. By the way, the longer you’re in there, the weaker you’ll get. And don’t expect your pets to get here in time either. Forty miles away, aren’t they, and anyway the cell reception here is shite.”

He starts to walk away, hears Castiel move, but makes himself keep going. 

It’s like some particularly weird game of chicken, and he knows from previous experience that Castiel is good at it, but there can only be one outcome here and it’s going to be favourable to him.

“Wait,” Castiel says, when Crowley’s maybe two feet from the door.

“Music to my ears,” he says, turning on one foot and almost dancing back to the circle. “Developed some common sense at last, have we?”

“I have a condition.”

“I know,” Crowley says, and gives him a look of mock pity. “But I’m not a psychiatrist. Still, maybe we can deal to help you fix your daddy issues another time.”

The look Castiel gives him has Crowley taking an involuntary step back, circle or not. “You don’t try to make a deal with Bobby Singer,” the angel says, and why the hell does it sound like he’s giving a command rather than requesting a trade. “You deal with me – now – and then you use the dagger to heal him. After that, it’s yours.”

Crowley purses his lips. “Not the deal I had in mind.”

“I’m sure it isn’t, but it’s the only one I’m prepared to make.”

He snaps his fingers, summons a chair, and sits down in it. He watches Castiel for a few moments. The angel is getting weaker; Crowley can see it in how hunched over his vessel is and every now and then a shudder passes through him. 

He must be in agony.

“I bet those two boys would deal to get you back.”

“I doubt it. They’ll know what you want.”

Crowley frowns at how sure the angel seems that the Winchesters wouldn’t trade for him. Of course, he’s probably right – Dean Winchester would probably smash that stupid car of his through the doors and run right over him. 

Then get out and shoot him a few times for good measure, while Moose scuffed up the circle and carried their angel back to the car.

No, if he’s going to deal with anyone it has to be Castiel, but he’s getting a little bored with how drawn out it’s becoming. He actually doesn’t have all night and so decides he can probably get the relic some other way. The dagger first and then perhaps that can be a bargaining chip further down the line. 

Someone is always pissing off warlocks.

But he always has to give it one last try.

“Well, if we don’t deal on it, Castiel, you’re just going to shrivel up into an angelic husk in there and those boys will forever be wondering what happened to you. And poor old Bobby will just burn up and die.”

He waits another minute, and then he knows when Castiel’s caved. He slumps a little further and then begins what looks like a tortuous attempt to turn around.

“Alright. You release me, you take the dagger and after you heal Bobby I’ll get him to give you the Sebastienne Chalice.”

“Excellent!” Crowley stands up, claps his hands, and steps towards the circle. “You know we have to seal the deal, right?”

Castiel’s disdain shows clearly now he’s facing out towards him. 

“Oh, come on, angel. I’ll still respect you in the morning, I promise.”

He stops at the edge, and beckons Castiel closer by crooking his finger at him. The angel’s still too weak to stand, and getting worse by the minute, so Crowley doesn’t try to hurry him. He’s going to get what he wants, so he can afford a little patience now.

About a foot from the edge, it seems like Castiel doesn’t have anything left in him. He has to brace himself on his hands, and his breathing starts to hitch.

Crowley frowns. Maybe that fight with the vampires had taken too much out of him. Hell, he knows Castiel’s been running himself ragged of late – flitting between problems on Earth, problems in Heaven and problems involving Winchesters. 

He wants to deal with the feathered bastard, not kill him. He has no way of knowing if Castiel will be useful to him in the future, and the problem with burning bridges is it’s kind of permanent. He’s paid for being kill-happy in the past and now he exercises a little more caution.

“Come on, Castiel – just a teensy weensy bit further and as soon as the circle breaks you’ll be all better. Cross my heart.”

Castiel manages another pathetic shuffle forward, but it still isn’t quite enough.

Crowley gives a frustrated sigh, inches forward just a little, so he’s just on the right side of the circle.

That’s when Crowley realises that maybe Castiel isn’t close enough for what he has in mind, but for what Castiel does? Crowley’s definitely close enough.

Castiel looks up at him, a pained look of triumph on his face, and then he beckons Crowley much the same way Crowley did him.

It’s like someone giving him a shove and he staggers forward, feet scuffing the border of the circle and then everything whites out.

::::

When he’s aware again, he’s also not where he was.

It’s a diner. He’s standing in the middle of the floor and despite himself he takes a step back when some waitress runs screaming at him. 

And then straight on through him.

It’s quite a disconcerting feeling, but nothing compared to seeing Castiel appear about two feet in front of him, looking as pissed off as Crowley’s ever seen him.

The only time he looks that angry is when someone’s endangered his precious Winchesters. 

But he’s also not wearing that tired old suit and trench coat get up anymore.

He’s all in black – leather jacket, t-shirt, and a pair of jeans that show off those nice legs of his.

It’s a very good look on him, but Crowley gets a view that’s too up close and personal as the angel follows the waitress and strides straight through him.

“Am I bloody invisible or what!” he snaps and turns to see what exactly is going on.

The waitress is on her knees, pleading for her life, gabbling up at the angel about how sorry she is, she’ll never ever do it again.

Crowley admits to a moment of shock as Castiel hauls the woman to her feet and gives her a shake that has him wincing in surprise sympathy.

The woman isn’t a demon – Crowley would know if she was – so the angel’s treatment seems a little harsh. 

“I know you won’t,” Castiel grates out. “But it’s enough that you’ve done it once. So tell me how to undo it.”

She reaches into the pocket of her apron and takes out a small medallion. The minute it comes into sight, Crowley starts to feel a little sick. He’s never seen it before, but he hates the feeling of being in the same room as it, even if he’s not actually _physically_ there. 

Castiel shoves it into his pocket. He hauls the woman up against him. 

“If you ever try anything like this again.”

“I won’t,” she sobs. “I promise. It was stupid, but they paid me.”

“Who?”

She gives him a name, and just like that Castiel is gone. Crowley finds he is, too, like he’s attached to the angel by a piece of string.

He knows the next place they go to, though. He should, he rebuilt it from the foundations, and did a superb job on the interior design if he does say so himself.

His apartments in Hell probably look more like a penthouse up top, but basically who gives a fuck. It’s not like any of his minions are going to comment (to his face) and the benefit of being a bachelor is that he can please his own damn self.

It’s the way Castiel strides through the rooms like he owns them that makes Crowley very uneasy. The angel shouldn’t even have been able to breach Hell without bringing Crowley’s troops down on him let alone just waltz into his own private quarters.

He follows, not like he has a choice – bloody stupid mistake he made with that circle, clearly, even if he isn’t sure what. Getting rusty, that’s what it is. Somehow it’s shoved him forward – he focuses, gets an impression of maybe five years – and this is how things have turned out.

Castiel enters what Crowley sees is his bedroom, and he gets the shock of his life when he sees himself lying on the bed.

Pale, ill looking, and _relieved_ when the angel stops next to the bed.

“You’re a bloody idiot,” he hears himself say. He sounds like he’s about to check out and he feels a pang of fear twist its way into him.

“I’m not the one making myself a target for assassination,” Castiel chides, but though he sounds angry, Crowley can hear the concern there. “You need to stop doing that.”

“I will if you will,” the Crowley on the bed says.

Castiel takes the medallion out of his pocket, mutters a few words in some obscure demonic tongue – one that Crowley’s long since forgotten most of – and drops the medallion into a bowl of water by the bed.

It’s like it was made of sodium the way it starts to fizz and bubble. The stink is awful, but a minute later his bedridden self seems to brighten and can actually sit up.

“Took you long enough,” are his next words, but there’s a smirk on his face that says his feelings aren’t ungrateful. Crowley knows himself well enough or so he thought, right up until he sees himself grab a fistful of Castiel’s t-shirt and haul the angel down for a kiss.

It’s freaky and weird and wrong but he stays to watch anyway as Castiel lets himself be hauled down onto the bed, and then they’re stripping and bloody hell, he had no idea angels could sound so wanton.

He has to turn away when he sees Castiel break a little in a typically Castiel fashion and order his double not to get hurt again.

“You worry about me,” he hears himself say. “That’s so sweet.”

“I just don’t want your job,” Castiel returns, but no one in the room, Crowley guesses, is at all fooled by the diversionary tactic.

He studies the angel for a moment, long enough to assure himself that he is still an angel. The questions he has, they’re lost in the sense of shock settling over him. None of this...should even be possible.

He feels a sharp pain in his back, and the image before him starts to fade.

The next thing he sees is the roof of the warehouse and a moment later, Castiel leaning over him.

 

“So I guess I don’t get the dagger, then.”

He cringes as soon as he says it, because he expects Castiel to give it to him alright but not how he wants it.

And probably not how he’d just seem himself giving it to Castiel, either.

The angel manages to stand up, but he’s clearly still not himself. He sways a little, and braces himself against the wall Crowley’s lying against. 

“You don’t get the chalice either. If I had the time and the strength I’d send you back. As it is, that’s something I’ll keep on my to-do list.”

Crowley grins, figuring the angel has at least learned something from those Winchesters. The appropriate usage of sarcasm, even though he knows Castiel means it.

“Oh, don’t do that, Cas,” Crowley ventures. He gets up, stiff and sore, and though Castiel watches him warily, they both know he’s not in a position to do much about it. “You never know, I might become really important to you.”

Castiel stares at him like he’s gone mad. “I would be very surprised.”

Crowley can’t help himself. He’s a little surprised that he isn’t freaking out more but right now he finds himself eager to know how they got from this to that. Hoping he doesn’t have to wait a full five years to find out.

In the meantime...

Before he can think it over and talk himself out of it, he grabs hold of Castiel and pulls him around and plants a sloppy kiss on him.

It takes the angel a second to get over his shock and push Crowley away like he’s got cooties. 

“The deal is invalid,” he snarls.

Crowley grins at him. “I know,” he says. “I just wanted to know what it’s going to feel like. Do you know, as first dates go this wasn’t half bad.”

He taps Castiel on the shoulder, sends him to those stupid Winchesters, and then erases the circle from the floor. Not many people know how to draw a magic circle that can imprison angels and Crowley figures that’s how he wants to keep it.

Especially for one angel in particular.

Just in case.


End file.
